Sunblind Serpent: The Zodiac Without A House

Sareth Venn crossed into Earth through a drainage channel that should not have been deep enough to cover his shoes. His hand came first, fingers closing over the concrete edge, followed by one shoulder and then the rest of his body as the water briefly opened onto the dark road Marek had seen beneath it.

By the time Sareth straightened, the channel was shallow again, and not a drop remained on his coat.

Now that Sareth was actually standing in front of them, Marek could see more of the Scorpius Mark near his waist. The black line he had noticed through the water was worse up close. It cut through one side of the pattern strangely, not quite like something had been added there. Part of the Mark simply looked unfinished.

Beside him, Rhovan pushed himself back onto his feet.

He looked terrible.

There was still blood around his nose, and his face had gone noticeably pale, but gold light was already spreading around him before Sareth had even finished straightening his coat.

”Cycle VIII,” Rhovan said quietly.

Sareth looked him over. ”And you’re Cycle V.”

”For now.”

Something in Sareth’s expression shifted. ”Confident.”

Rhovan wiped the remaining blood beneath his nose with the back of his hand. ”Usually.”

Marek felt the pressure in the shelter shift before Rhovan made his move. Every uncovered window darkened at once, along with the mirror shards still scattered near Kellan’s feet.

Moments that did not belong to the shelter began appearing across the glass.

One pane showed Rhovan inside the ruined department store, blood at the corner of his mouth while gold pressed against a wall of reflections. Another showed Nadia using Laureen’s own voice against her. Near Rafe, the shelter disappeared completely from a broken shard and became the smoke-filled interior of a damaged aircraft.

Marek examined the nearest reflection. The route led back to Rafe, not Sareth.

These were not scenes Sareth had created. He was dragging something back out of traces that already existed.

Rhovan attacked first.

He thrust one hand forward. Gold ripped across the entrance.

Sareth twisted aside just before it reached him, and the strike tore into the concrete behind him hard enough to scatter chips across the floor. He had barely planted his foot when Rhovan swung his arm again.

Another blast came from the side.

Sareth ducked beneath it and moved backward, his coat snapping behind him as the gold passed over his head and struck the wall near the windows. A crack spread across the nearest pane.

Rhovan did not give him time to stop.

He stepped after him and attacked again.

Every pair of eyes in the shelter followed the exchange. Rhovan was the one attacking. Sareth was the one being attacked. It was pretty clear to everyone watching them.

For an instant, the recognition strengthened the gold around Rhovan. It glowed even brighter.

Then Sareth touched two fingers to the nearest reflection.

Black lines spread beneath the glass. They did not copy the attack. Instead, they caught the relation the room had already recognized and carried it backward through every reflective surface facing the entrance.

Rhovan staggered as the pressure turned toward him.

”Annoying.”

”You built a court,” Sareth said. ”And filled it with witnesses.”

Marek opened a Case around the nearest black route. He did not attempt to contain Sareth himself. Even thinking about putting a Cycle VIII Astrant inside one of his Scales was stupid enough that he dismissed it immediately. He defined only the foreign relation Sareth was using against Rhovan.

Pain struck his shoulder the instant the Case touched it.

Degree IV held the first boundary, but Sareth’s route kept splitting faster than Marek could define it. Two branches became five, then more spread through the windows as each reflection carried a slightly different connection.

Marek separated the reflected gold from Rhovan’s Authority, the civilians’ recognition from Sareth’s interference, and source from copy, but the branches multiplied faster than he could finish defining them.

He closed the Case before the pressure reached either occupied gray Scale and stumbled back with one hand over his shoulder.

Sareth noticed. ”Integration.”

Marek breathed through the ache. ”Y-You sound disappointed.”

”Why would I be? Better control produces clearer evidence when it fails.”

The shard beside Rafe changed.

Smoke filled the reflection. A younger Rafe sat trapped inside a damaged aircraft while a woman struggled to unfasten the belt across his waist. Her hands shook until the buckle finally released. She shoved Rafe toward a torn opening in the side of the cabin.

Rafe stopped moving. ”N-No... no...”

Sareth turned his head slightly. ”Your mother died because you obeyed her.”

The shelter went quiet. Rafe’s face tightened as his younger self crawled through the opening while his mother remained behind.

Marek watched the image instead of Sareth. ”That isn’t the whole sequence.”

Sareth glanced toward him.

”His mother unfastened the belt. She told him where to go.” Marek pointed toward the shard. ”You showed him crawling out because that gives you the accusation you want. What did you leave out?”

Rafe swallowed, his lips trembling. ”I... I turned around after I c-crawled through the opening.”

The reflection continued just far enough to show the child waiting on the other side of the damaged opening, staring into the smoke.

”I waited for her,” Rafe said. ”She never came out.”

Marek looked at Sareth. ”Then he didn’t abandon her.”

”He survived because he left.”

”Because she told him to,” Marek corrected.

Sareth studied him for several seconds. ”That changes the meaning for you?”

”It changes the record.”

Eren’s Libra Mark remained faintly lit nearby. His eyes moved between Rafe and the reflection before settling on Sareth.

Marek felt the second gray Scale tighten again.

Something about the route was still wrong even after the image disappeared. The event had ended years ago. Rafe had survived it, remembered it, and carried the memory forward, yet Sareth’s Authority was treating the relation as though it had never finished.

Rhovan seemed to reach the same conclusion. ”An Unclosed Witness.”

Marek looked at him. ”What?”

”Not another Identity,” Rhovan immediately clarified, keeping his attention on Sareth. ”A failure of closure.”

The black defect along Sareth’s Scorpius Mark became easier to notice when the reflections shifted again.

”A witnessed act leaves something behind,” Rhovan continued. ”Scorpius can use the difference between what was seen, what was hidden, and who knows each part. Normally, once the event is over, that connection ends. The witness can still remember what happened, but the Scorpius Authority should no longer be able to treat the event as if it were still happening.”

Marek looked at the black line cutting through Sareth’s Mark. ”But his can.”

”Because his never closes properly.”

That fit everything Sareth had done since appearing in the water. Black Errancy had not replaced his Scorpius Authority. It had damaged one of its limits.

Normally, an old witnessed event should become inaccessible once it was over. Sareth’s did not. If enough of a trace remained, he could reach back into that event, drag a true fragment of it into view, and force new people to witness it.

The shelter windows changed again.

Mara appeared in one, walking away through a mirror route. Amara vanished into water in another. A third showed an old photograph of Tomas beside the word MISSING.

Sareth’s voice lowered. ”Your sister leaves when you find her. Your mother leaves when you find her. Your father left before either of them. How many witnesses do you require before you accept what your family does to you?”

His fingers curled into his palms.

The three images hurt close enough to the same place that his mind tried to give them one name.

Abandonment.

The answer came too easily.

He looked at Mara first. She had chosen to train with Venielle and had not asked him to follow. Amara had left for reasons she had explained, even if he hated the decision. Tomas was different; eleven years of missing records and Project Meridian still surrounded his disappearance.

Three people. Three departures. Three routes that hurt him for different reasons.

”No.”

Sareth tilted his head. ”No?”

”You put them together because the result looks the same from where I’m standing.” Marek looked at the windows. ”That doesn’t make them the same.”

The Ophiuchus Mark warmed beneath Marek’s shirt.

He did not open a Case around grief, abandonment, or his family. He returned to Rhovan and examined the routes still pressing against Leo Authority, this time refusing to treat Sareth’s entire attack as one thing.

The civilians’ recognition of Rhovan belonged to them. The gold reflected through the glass still came from Rhovan.

Sareth’s route was underneath both.

Marek excluded the reflected gold first. Then he separated the civilians’ recognition of Rhovan from Sareth’s interference without disturbing that recognition itself.

What remained was Sareth’s route.

Marek tightened the boundary around it.

Pain spread from his shoulder into his chest, but Degree IV held while people moved, Rhovan fought the pressure, and the reflections continued changing around them.

Marek did not take Sareth’s route into custody.

He only separated it from Rhovan’s Authority and the civilians’ recognition of him.

Rhovan thrust his hand forward.

Gold burst from his palm and struck the floor between them. It bounced once across the concrete before erupting upward toward Sareth, throwing him through two rows of empty chairs.

Sareth landed on one knee among the broken furniture and looked at Marek with genuine interest.

Blood had begun seeping through Marek’s shirt over the Ophiuchus Mark. He pressed his palm against it and stayed standing. Degree IV had not made him stronger than Sareth. It had allowed him to find the smaller rule hidden inside a much larger attack and keep that distinction true long enough for Rhovan to act.

Rhovan stepped beside him, breathing harder than he would ever admit. ”Dear Ophiarch, that was—”

”Later.”

”I was going to say excellent.”

”Survive first. This is not the right time.”

Rhovan considered that as he nodded. ”Reasonable.”

Sareth rose from the broken chairs. Behind him, every surviving reflection changed at once. This time, none of them showed strangers, distant roads, or pieces of the past.

They showed the people standing beside Marek.